Slytherin Games
by FatesMistake
Summary: Harry challenges Snape to a game of poker where the winner gets to ask whatever they want of the loser. What happens when he loses? Post-Hogwarts. Harry is DADA teacher. AU, basically ignores the Seventh book entirely. T for...language and stuff.


Harry threw his cards down in disgust. It had taken three weeks to convince Snape to play a game of poker with him, and he was getting his ass kicked. He'd done well at first, winning the first two hands easily, but he'd lost the last three. He suddenly regretted making a bet where the winner got whatever they wanted within reason. Snape hadn't started winning until the bet had been laid.

The Defense Master looked sheepishly across the table at his companion. "No chance we could make the bet for best four out of seven?"

Severus smirked. "Accept your defeat with humility, Potter. You are a Gryffindor, show a little courage," He said smoothly. "I told you from the start that you shouldn't make a bet with a Slytherin. We _always_ win." He stood up, leaving his cards on the table. "I shall collect my winnings tomorrow. That should give me ample time to come up with something suitable. For now, I will bid you good night."

Harry, ever the good host, stood and walked the man to the door. They both paused at the barrier, and stared into each other's eyes. Harry held his breath, but Snape only raised an eyebrow and left the Defense Master's quarters. Harry frowned, but let the man go. He was too tired for their usual games, and they both had chaperone duty tomorrow in Hogsmeade.

Leaving his mussed table for morning, Harry retired for the night. What would Snape ask of him? Nothing terrible, surely; they had long since moved past their animosity. Still, Harry worried. It could be something humiliating. One of their few outlets, aside from the tension-filled pause they always had before parting ways, was to pull harmless practical jokes on one another. The Gryffindor had only just finished washing the green dye out of his hair the day before.

 _Break_

Harry yawned as he walked out of his bedroom the next morning. He immediately set about clearing his table of the mess he'd left the night before. Bottles of butterbeer went into the trash, the tea set went into the sink, and the biscuits went back into the cupboard. He began gathering the cards to replace in the box, starting with Snape's last hand. A simple glance up had him throwing the cards back onto the table and storming from his quarters towards the dungeons.

When he reached his friend's quarters, Harry pounded angrily on the door. It opened almost immediately, to reveal Snape looking completely nonchalant. The man smirked out at him.

"Professor Potter, to what do I owe the honor? I was just about to head to breakfast." He left the door open as he moved back into his quarters, apparently unperturbed by Harry's obvious distress.

Harry glowered at the man sourly. "You cheated last night!"

Snape threw on his robes, stuffing a book into one of the many pockets, likely to read while they chaperoned later. "Whatever do you mean?" He sidled past Harry into the corridor, his door closing and locking behind him.

The Defense Master followed as he made his way casually down the dungeon corridor. "You used the mirror on the wall behind me to look at my hand!"

"I used the environment to my advantage," Snape replied calmly. "You can hardly fault me. I did warn you not to make a bet unless victory was assured."

Harry scoffed. "It might have been, if you hadn't cheated. You owe me a rematch!"

"I think not," The Potions Master answered, still implacably calm. "I won as fairly as a Slytherin might, and I plan to collect."

"Bullshit," Harry exclaimed. "You can't collect on a bet you didn't really win!"

Before he knew what was happening, the Gryffindor found himself pinned against the wall of the empty corridor. Snape was pressed bodily against him, long fingers holding his wrists against the stone on either side of his head. He blushed.

"Do you want to bet?" Snape purred silkily.

Harry sucked in a breath just as cool, slim lips covered his own in a desperately passionate kiss, which he immediately returned. They had been dancing around this for months; taunts, teasing, and still moments where they almost…It had become a game of sorts. They would each do their best to test one another's patience, drawing the tension between them so taut that it was only a matter of time before it snapped. Now that it had, Harry was forced to wonder what the hell had taken them so long. The kiss was like nothing he had ever felt. It was raw, and primal, and yet somehow reverent. He poured all of his frustration from the last few months into the press of their lips and glide of their tongues. Already he could feel himself saluting the passion he felt radiating off of the Potions Master.

Snape pulled away just far enough for them both to draw air into their starved lungs in short, shallow gasps. "No more games, Harry," He murmured, staring at the Gryffindor's swollen lips.

Harry nodded enthusiastically. "No more games," He agreed.

They kissed again before Severus pulled away completely. He bowed slightly before Harry, who set about straightening his robe, and held out a single long-fingered hand. Harry stared at him suspiciously.

"Potter, would you care to accompany me to Hogsmeade today?"

Harry chuckled as he took the proffered hand. He didn't have much choice, since they were both meant to chaperone. "That's cheating."

Severus stood to his full height and drew Harry into the encompassing strength of his arms and another toe-curling kiss. "That, Mister Potter, is Slytherin."


End file.
